


Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here

by psocoptera



Category: Huge
Genre: Bisexuality, F/M, Golf Ball-Sized Hail, M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/pseuds/psocoptera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trent and Will and what they have in common. Written for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/abc_las/">ABC Network Last Author Standing</a> challenge prompt "Afternoon Thunderstorm".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here

They're just hauling the last pieces of the drum kit out to the craft hut when the thunderstorm starts. Even carrying the big bass drum, Trent is the fastest; he hustles in through the open door and sets it down, then looks back. Will is scurrying towards him with the cymbals, while behind her, Ian is struggling with his armload of stands.

Trent runs back out to help him, but Ian insists he's got it, and so Trent ends up just trotting back to the craft hut alongside him, where the rain is playing one hell of a drum solo on the roof.

"So much for practice," Will groans. Trent would call her a quitter, except she's right: they're not going to be able to hear each other. He's not even sure he could keep the beat. He starts tapping his leg experimentally.

Ian looks from him to Will, and back. "Oh god," he says suddenly, "My guitar is still on the porch!" He dashes back out into the rain. Trent stops tapping and just watches; Ian's shirt is plastered to his back before he's halfway across the grass. He'd like to peel it off of him.

"Whose brilliant idea was this," Will gripes, jarring Trent from his trance. "Practicing out in the craft hut so everyone wouldn't hear the new stuff before our show? Oh right," she rolls her eyes, "That was me. Oops."

"Maybe if you take your half-empty glass out there the rain will fill it," Trent says, annoyed. "It's not a big deal, we'll just go back to the rec room and come back later and - " He breaks off. There's a new note in the din coming from the roof, a sharp rat-a-tat like someone's dumping out a bag of marbles up there.

"Is that _hail_?" Will says incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me."

They peer out through the open door. Sure enough, icy pellets are ricocheting back up from the ground. One bounces into the doorway and rolls to a stop between them. It's about the size of a garbanzo bean.

"I'm not going out in that," Will says, crossing her arms.

Trent snorts. "It's just a little hail," he says. "We'll sprint. You'll hardly notice it."

There's a louder thump from the roof. They both jerk to look outside again.

This time Trent spots the larger hailstones, like lost golf balls, scattered here and there.

He eyes the distance to the rec room porch. There aren't _that_ many bigger hailstones. He'd probably make it, going flat-out.

But Will is already sitting down at one of the tables, and it seems cold just to run off and leave her. So Trent sits down at the same table.

He tries to think of something to talk about, but comes up blank. Now that he's heard her sing, he likes her a lot more than he used to, back when she was just some random girl hating on sports and refusing to join in. She doesn't hold anything back when she sings, though, and he has to respect that. And she writes great songs. But they really only have two things in common.

"Any ideas yet for a name for the band?" he asks, because that's one of them.

"Maybe," she says, "But I don't think we should talk about it without Ian here, and it's not like he's going to come back out here in the hail." She looks bummed out about it, and, hey, there's the other thing they have in common.

"I know," he says. "Too bad, huh?" The noise of the storm is making them raise their voices, but it feels paradoxically intimate, like they're cut off from the rest of the world. It makes it easy to say it, easy to look steadily back at her when Will's eyes go wide.

"Wait," she says slowly, "You're gay for Ian? What about Chloe? Your girlfriend?"

Trent sighs. "Chloe's great," he says. "I don't _not_ like girls. I just didn't come to camp looking for something serious. I thought it might be a chance to, I dunno. Try different things."

"Like Ian," she says. It's not unkind, just a little dubious.

"If he was into me, yeah. I'd go for it." Trent pauses. "Same as you would."

Will scowls and looks away. "I don't - " she starts.

"Come on," Trent interrupts. "I don't know how he hasn't figured out that song is about him, but you can't lie to your drummer."

She makes a _say what?_ face at him, but at least she stops looking away.

"Please don't tell him," she says, finally, after a long moment of nothing but the clatter of hail. Trent's never heard her sound so small.

"I'm not going to tell him," Trent says. "Don't tell him about me, either. Or, hey, he could come back out here and we could tackle him and - "

He surprises a laugh out of her. "Dude," she says, putting up her hands, "Leave me out of your fantasies." She's smiling, though.

In fact, in Trent's fantasy, she's not there at all - it's just him and Ian in the craft hut. He'd back Ian up against the wall... he'd be surprised, but he'd raise his eyebrows at Trent like he was daring him to keep going, so Trent would lean in, and...

Trent blinks a little, realizing he'd just zoned out. Will looks a little spacey herself, like she's imagining something similar. It takes him a minute to realize that the racket on the roof has gone muted: the hail has turned back into rain.

"I think we can - " "It sounds like - " they say simultaneously. They grin at each other and move for the door. They jostle briefly in the doorway; Trent gives Will a friendly nudge, and she bumps her shoulder back at him. Then they take off running into the rain, heading for Ian, leaving their daydreams behind them.


End file.
